This week marks a year since my surgery for endometriosis (and other thoughts on infertility)

I’m still not pregnant.

Is that too direct?

Too honest?

As I laid in bed earlier this week I had the perfect intro for this post. One that felt like a graceful door opening into this part of my life. But I can’t seem to remember it now as I scour my head for it, for the words that better introduce this part of me that very few have seen.

You see, I’m feeling a bit nostalgic this week as I mark a year since I had surgery for endometriosis and have known leading up to the date that I wanted to share more about the infertility journey Gabe and I have been on since 2020.

Not a lot of women talk about this part of their lives. Why should they? Society has done a really good job at making us selective in sharing only the good parts, only the parts of us that don’t feel broken.

I’ve certainly played into it, only showing the really light and bright parts of my life. But I have always been sure of one thing in this whole journey with infertility: I don’t want to go through it alone. And if there’s even one woman or a couple that I can encourage through our story, then it’s worth sharing it.

Gabe and I have been married for 8 years now and for the last four of those years we’ve struggled with infertility. Last January we made the decision to pursue fertility treatment to see if that would help us, though from the get-go my doctor guessed that I was one of the lucky few with endometriosis.

What is endometriosis? Simply said, it’s when tissue similar to the inner lining of the uterus grows outside the uterus, often affecting the ovaries, fallopian tubes and the tissue lining the pelvis. It can cause pain, especially during period weeks, and it can also lead to fertility problems.

Painful periods? Check. Fertility issues? Check. Other related and not so fun symptoms? Check, check, check.

Oh and the best part? There’s no true way of knowing if you have it or not without a procedure.

But before surgery, our doctor encouraged us to do some of the basics in fertility treatment since some women are able to get pregnant even with endometriosis.

When I tell you we did the basics, the absolute basics, in fertility treatment and my body took a hard swipe left and rejected it, I’m not kidding. I was often left dealing with the side effects of treatment all while traveling off the mountain for appointments and working a stressfully demanding 24/7 job.

Wrap all those things up into one box and in came the start of a very brutal and difficult year including weight gain, near-depressive episodes, and darkness that wholly enveloped me.

After a couple of failed attempts at achieving pregnancy through fertility treatment I took the summer off to reset my body and re-evaluate my options. We knew we wanted a family, but with the basics of fertility treatment taking everything out of me, I was ready for some answers. I returned to the doctor at the end of the summer and asked for my options. IVF was the next possible option but after the side effects from the bare minimum I had been on, I was determined to know if endometriosis was the answer so we set the date for my procedure: September 19, 2023.

You know when you get married and you promise to be there for each other through “sickness or in health”? In the moment, the sickness felt so far off and out of sight. But last year, in the midst of fertility treatment and my procedure, it wasn’t, and I was so grateful, so grateful that Gabe was my partner through it all.

You see, my doctors had to give me four incisions on my belly so they could go in and search for the endometriosis. Post-surgery when it was confirmed that I had stage three of endometriosis (deep infiltrating endometriosis) Gabe not only held my hand through the recovery but physically sustained me from the second we left the hospital until the day I could finally shower by myself.

I will never, ever forget all he did to care for me during my near month-long recovery (my recovery took a bit longer than normal), helping me shower and use the restroom. Helping me wash my hair and brush it out too while every muscle in my stomach came back to life after my procedure.

We wanted the same thing, a family, and in this chapter of our life he was doing what he could to make sure I had all I need, so that our chances could be better, stronger.

If you’ve followed me for any time, you know the start of 2024 brought a lot of change. The biggest being me quitting my job. But what you didn’t see was that at the end of last year I physically hit a wall. Fertility treatments, my procedure, and an unexpected foot fracture led to a heavy dependence on food and in turn weight gain. And being in a job that was as demanding as mine, led to high anxiety and a lack of sleep so deep that my body took the grunt of it all. Eventually it broke me and I was no longer me. I was a shell of my former self.

My doctors recommended some significant life changes: leaving my role, healing my body, and changing my diet.

And I’ve done all of that. I feel better, stronger, and grateful to be where I’m at. But I’m still not pregnant. And that’s okay.

That’s odd, right, to have that current level of acceptance? Well, it’s the truth. I’m learning to give my body grace and the space to heal, really heal, after years of testing and trying to start a family while being in a dark headspace. I don’t want to bring a child into this world in the midst of all of that. I want to be my best self for when the time is right.

But that’s not to say I haven’t grieved deeply. I have, and that’s okay too. In fact, grieving is needed to move past some of the deep level of emotions surrounding infertility.

So where am I at in this journey right now? I’m working with a new doctor to get to the root of my issues with my hormones. Maybe that’s where I should have started in the first place, but that’s okay. I have other options that we’re looking to pursue next year and I’m grateful for that too, but in the meantime we’re focusing on this first step and getting healthier and stronger in the process.

If you’re in a similar season like me, know that I’m praying for you.

I’m asking God to hold you close and to remind you that His plans are better than ours even when they makes no sense. I’m asking Him to give you the space to love your body even when it’s not doing what you want it to do. I’m also asking Him to keep your relationship strong, because infertility is not kind to relationships with the stress it puts on them. And mostly I’m praying that He’ll answer the desires of your heart to have a family.

But don’t go through this journey alone. Bring people you trust into the journey and allow them to be there for you, to hold your hand in the midst of the sadness, and especially in the midst of the joy.

I am so grateful for Gabe, for my parents, and for my circle of people who have been there for me (and for us) through every step of the way. For the doctors who’ve encouraged me and are encouraging me now as I continue to heal.

Here’s to the women like us, may we not let infertility define us but make us strong enough to help other women in similar chapters of life.

Until next time,